


Making Your Own Entertainment

by mithrel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blanket Permission, Other, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-23
Updated: 2010-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve been stuck in this motel room for five days because of the rain, and Dean’s bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Your Own Entertainment

Dean lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling. They’ve been stuck in this motel room for five days, ever since a freak storm system rolled through. Goddamn Apocalypse.

They’d stockpiled food beforehand, so they won’t starve at least. Although technically speaking it’s not really “food,” just what you could get at a convenience store. Dean’s stomach growls and he sighs and pulls out a Slim Jim to gnaw on.

The power went out on the third day, and Sam’s laptop battery died on the fourth, so he can’t even look at porn.

His eye falls on Cas, sitting on the other bed with his trenchcoat off. Dean doesn’t know why he’s hanging around, but he’s not complaining. It’s not like the guy eats anything.

Dean decides if he can’t look at porn he’ll have to make some of his own.

He goes over, grabs Cas by the wrists and pins him to the wall.

Cas could break his hold no problem, but he only looks at him curiously. “What are you doing, Dean?”

“I’m bored.” He’s not whining. He doesn’t whine.

“Have you considered reading?”

“Fuck that,” Dean says and shuts him up.

This thing between them is still new enough that Dean’s not sure of his reception, so he goes slow, licking along the seam of Cas’ lips until he gasps, then snaking his tongue inside.

He runs his tongue along the back of Cas’ front teeth, and when he moves up to the roof of his mouth Cas makes a small noise and grips his arms.

Dean backs off, lets Cas take control of the kiss. He’s still clumsy, but he’s getting better.

Dean unknots Cas’ tie, drawing it loose with a soft _shush_ of fabric. Cas fumbles at his belt and Dean takes in a sharp breath through his nose and arches toward his fingers.

“Seriously, guys? Do you have to do that here?”

Dean reluctantly breaks the kiss to smirk over his shoulder at Sam, who’s just exited the shower. “Where else should we do it?”

Sam bitchfaces at him and flops down on the bed. One of these days he’s gonna break something doing that.

“What, you don’t wanna join us?” he asks innocently.

Sam growls and turns away from them, digging out a book.

“Dean. Perhaps we should–”

He cuts Cas off with another kiss, turning him so he could look over Cas’ shoulder at Sam, who’s very pointedly Not Paying Attention. But he hasn’t gone back into the bathroom, so Dean figures that means he’s fair game. “Trust me.”

Cas is about to protest again, but Dean untucks his shirt and runs his hands up along his back to his shoulderblades and whatever he was going to say is lost in a moan as he arches back into Dean’s hands.

Dean smirks. He’d discovered that quirk of Cas’ the first time they’d had sex, and it comes in handy sometimes. Sam’s shoulders tense. He hasn’t turned a page yet. Dean figures it’s only a matter of time before he gives up and comes over here.

He’s distracted from watching Sam by Cas practically tearing his shirt off. Dean barely raises his arms in time. That’s the downside to touching his shoulders: once he does Cas is totally focused on sex, to the exclusion of anything else.

Not that that’s a _bad_ thing, Dean thinks, as Cas ravages his mouth, pulling his belt off. And then he stops thinking, since it’s kind of hard to think when there’s an angel sucking on your tongue.

He shoves Cas’ jacket off and attempts to unbutton his shirt, but his fingers aren’t working and he’s not looking at what he’s doing.

Cas pulls away from him to attack his jeans, and Dean takes the opportunity to unbutton his shirt.

“Why do you wear this? It’s impossible to get out of in a hurry.”

“I’m used to it,” Cas replies and Dean knows it’s pointless arguing with him.

Dean finally gets the last button undone and goes to push the shirt off, but someone beats him to it.

He blinks. He’d forgotten all about Sam, who’s finally discarded his book and come over.

“You guys,” he growls, leaning down to lick Cas’ ear, “are _impossible_ to ignore.”

Dean grins. “Thanks, we try.”

Sam bitchfaces at him again and pulls Cas away to kiss him.

Dean would be angry, would be jealous, except it’s fucking hot.

Sam pushes Cas down on the bed and Dean joins them. You can’t really fit three people in a queen bed, but they’ve managed before. He briefly debates pushing the beds together before deciding against it. It’d take too much time.

Sam’s evidently still pissed, since he’s ignoring him in favor of kissing Cas breathless.

Dean can’t have that. The entire reason he kept molesting Cas when Sam came in (or, OK, half the reason, he’s only human) was because he was inviting him to join in. He’ll be damned if Sam excludes him.

So he gets behind him and blows in his ear. Sam shivers, but otherwise doesn’t react, drawing Cas’ belt free and unfastening his pants.

Dean pulls Sam’s flannel off, and then his shirt, sliding his hands up his chest, flicking his nipples as he goes. Sam twitches and gasps, “ _Dean._ ”

That’s more like it.

Cas has kicked off his shoes and socks, and Sam works his pants and briefs down and off, then takes hold of Cas’ cock. Dean leans forward so his chest is pressed against Sam’s back and puts his hand over Sam’s.

Cas gasps and arches into it, and Dean _really_ needs to get his jeans off soon, but he can’t bring himself to pull away.

Sam slides his hand from underneath Dean’s and slips out from between them to take off his own jeans and boxers, and Cas leans forward to unbutton Dean’s jeans. Dean has to stop touching him, but that’s OK, since Cas is mouthing at his throat while he does it.

He finally gets the jeans off, and it’s a fucking relief. He’s too turned on to bother with preparation and lube–he’d be perfectly happy with a blow-job.

But Cas has other ideas, pressing him down to the bed and smoothing his hands down his chest. Sam’s dug in his bag while he was up, and he hands Cas a bottle of lube and a condom.

Cas slides the condom on, then opens the bottle, and the _snick_ it makes sends a Pavlovian throb to Dean’s dick.

He shoots a glance at Sam, who’s sitting back on his heels and watching them, occasionally giving his own dick a slow pull.

Cas’ slick finger rubs over his opening and Dean hisses; the lube is cold.

It doesn’t stay cold, though. Cas slips a finger into him, crooking it over his prostate and Dean arches up at the contact.

Cas is apparently in a hurry, since Dean’s not quite ready when he puts a second finger in and it burns a little. That doesn’t stop him from moaning and trying to force Cas deeper.

Cas scissors his fingers, stretching him open, hitting his prostate over and over. If this keeps up Dean’s gonna come before anything even happens, which would be fucking embarrassing.

But not long after he thinks that Cas is pulling his fingers out and squeezing more lube into his fingers.

Dean looks at Sam, who’s still just sitting there watching, his pupils wide. Sam gives him a crooked smile.

And then Dean’s attention is yanked back to Cas, as the angel pushes into him. There’s not quite enough preparation, so it hurts a little, but not enough for Dean to care.

Cas forces himself to stop once he’s fully inside though, waits for Dean’s nod before he pulls out and slams back in again.

Dean closes his eyes and his hands claw at Cas’ shoulders. Cas gasps and thrusts forward even more forcefully, hitting his prostate and making Dean arch up into him.

They haven’t done this very often, no more than a handful of times. He and Sam, sure, but Cas had only recently become a part of their relationship. Even with Sam Dean didn’t bottom that often, since he found it hard to deal with. Not for any stupid macho reason, but because he had trust issues, and even with Sam, even with Cas, he had trouble letting himself be vulnerable like that.

It’s totally worth it, though, and for someone with so little practical experience Cas sure knows what he’s doing. Some things he’s still getting the hang of, like kissing, but at some things he’s a natural. This is one of them.

Dean lets out a shuddering gasp as Cas reaches down between them to take his cock in his hand, and Dean tenses around him, coming over his fist with a choked cry.

Cas stiffens above him, his face the most beautiful thing Dean’s seen, like he’s touched something better than he ever imagined, then abruptly goes limp.

A moment later he pulls out and Dean tries to catch his breath.

Sam doesn’t give him a chance, though. A few seconds later he’s hovering above him and rolling on a condom of his own. “My turn.”

“Sam,” Dean protests feebly, but his brother doesn’t listen, just slides in where he’s loose and slick with lubricant.

It’s too much on his already oversensitized nerves, and he hisses. Sam groans as he sinks in fully, and mouths at Dean’s throat. A spark goes through him and he feels his spent cock twitch, but no way is he getting hard again so soon.

Sam’s methodical about having sex, just the way he is about everything else, and if Dean hadn’t just come he would probably be a complete mess right now. Sam starts slow and gentle, then builds up to a fast, punishing rhythm that has Dean gasping despite himself.

Every thrust sends pleasure that’s almost but not quite pain sparking through him, and Sam’s face is almost enough to get him hard again.

“Fuck, Dean. Do you know how you look like this, completely debauched and fucked-out? God…”

Sam liked to talk dirty. That was something Dean had discovered the first time they had sex, and it had frankly shocked him that his monk of a brother had a mouth like a porn star.

In more ways than one.

But Sam only starts talking dirty when he’s close, and sure enough, a moment later he groans low and long and collapses onto his elbows, thankfully not falling on top of him, since Sam may be skinny, but he’s got a lot of muscle, plus being a freakin’ Sasquatch, and Dean’s thankful not to get crushed.

Sam breathes raggedly for a couple minutes above him, before Dean shoves him off.

“Get the hell off me, you’re heavy!”

Sam bitchfaces at him, then pauses. “You hear that?”

“I do not hear anything,” Cas says from next to them, and Sam nods.

“The rain’s stopped.”

“Hallelujah, now we can finally get the hell out of this fleatrap.” Dean lifts his eyes to the ceiling in thanksgiving.

Sam rolls his own eyes at him. “Yeah, whatever. We need to clean up first. We can't go out like this.”

"What, you're not into exhibitionism?" Dean teases, and Sam throws a pillow at him.


End file.
